


I'm a whisper in the wind and I'll be there until the end

by SpiltWords



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Barricades, Birthdays, Canonical Character Death, Collars, F/M, Fighting, Freedom, Master/Slave, Revolution, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 02:55:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3712180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiltWords/pseuds/SpiltWords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras remembers almost every birthday and every gift that he ever received, starting from the age of five but there would always be one gift that stuck in his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm a whisper in the wind and I'll be there until the end

 Enjolras remembers almost every birthday and every gift that he ever received, starting from the age of five but there would always be one gift that stuck in his mind.

 

**I.**

At the age of ten, Enjolras received a gift that he never expected.

He was ten years old and sat at the head of the table in the dining room – or at least, he would be ten in an exactly one hour, twelve minutes and ten seconds. He reminds his parents that he still isn’t quite ten, but he doesn’t complain when the servants fetch in the pile of presents and set them out on the table in front him and his eyes widen almost comically.

He begins ripping the paper straight off each of the presents, pausing only briefly to read the card attached to each which tells him who they were from before he carries on. Beside him one of the servants desperately tries to pick up the discarded paper, folding the bits that can be saved whilst gathering the rest in a pile beside him.

He receives everything he wanted and more. There’s a growing pile of books off to one side of him, toys that he’s begged for over the past few weeks, and some that he hadn’t even heard of but looked even more exciting!

Now there’s only one present left on the table and he frowns as he picks up the slim box and carefully unties the ribbon and drops it on the floor carelessly. This one isn’t wrapped like the rest and he quickly yanks the lib off before staring at the leather strap inside the box.

He blinks up at his parents in confusion before looking back down, trying to make sense of the object that he holds in his hands. He doesn’t notice his father leave the room until he clears his throat and when Enjolras looks up, he sees that he’s led a young girl, maybe a year of two younger than him over to the table.

“She’s yours,” his Mother states and he doesn’t miss the sting of bitterness in her voice as the girl stares down at her feet. “She’ll need training, of course.”

“You’re a bit young to have your own slave, but your Aunt insisted,” his Father added. “We’ll see how it goes and if it doesn’t work out, we can just sell her at the market and buy you something with the money.”

Enjolras has to stop himself from jumping out of his seat as he pulls what he recognises as a collar from the box and crosses the short distance towards the girl.

She flinches at first, lifting her gaze before dropping it quickly back to the floor as the woman glares at her.

Enjolras tries to be gentle as he carefully lifts the collar to her throat and fastens it not too tightly. The tan collour blends in with her skin and he frowns slightly as he looks at it. One day he’s going to buy a nicer collar for his slave. A red one, he decides but for now that doesn’t matter because he’s got his first friend.

He quickly thanks his parents for his presents, pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks before he’s out of the room. His slave follows him dutifully, never once lifting her gaze from her feet whilst the servants quickly gather up his forgotten presents and follow them as well.

He asks his Father for the red collar a month later, and he gets it for a Christmas a week after that.

 

 **II.**  

By the age of eleven he’s taught her how to count to ten.

And over the next few years he teaches the girl how to write and read a little bit and she comes out of her shell. She isn’t scared to tell him when he’s wrong and what she thinks. He knows he’s meant to tell her off for doing that but he’s proud of her.

And sometimes she complains when she has to dress him or when he sends her to fetch him a glass of water in the night, moaning that he should do it himself but he likes the girl and he would never dream of telling his parents.

When she first arrived he learns that she didn’t have a name. So he gave a name that was an exotic as she looked.

He calls her Eponine.

 

**III.**

Enjolras is twelve years old, and Eponine eleven when he witnesses her first punishment.

 They’re both sat outside in the sun, their backs resting against the huge fountain that stands in the middle of one of the many gardens.

Enjolras’ nose is stuck in one of his books and beside him Eponine hums quietly as she picks daisies from the grass and carefully threads them into a long chain. Once she’s done she fastens one end to the other before commanding Enjolras to look up.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, not wanting to be pulled away from the story he was engrossed in but he does anyway. She kneels up beside him and carefully lifts the necklace over his head and it settles snuggly around his shoulders.

He doesn’t miss her grin as she waits for him to say something, so he glances down at it, running his fingers over the delicate petals before thanking her sincerely.

He settles back against the fountain once more, careful not to crush the daisies behind his neck as he picks up his book and begins flicking back to where he was in his story but Eponines smile has quickly turned into a scowl and before he can read the first words on the page, the book has been snatched out of his hands as the petite girl jumps to her feet and dances in front of him whilst the book is held high above her head.

He protests as he stands, and orders her to return it to him with his hand held out but she ignores him as she skirts around to the other side of the fountain. She fast, and nimble. Faster than he is and she skips around with a broad grin, and it’s catching because Enjolras can’t help but grin back at her.

He lunges one way, causing her to run towards him as he quickly lunges back the other way and straight into her path. She lets out a squeal of surprise as she turns and tries to run away but his arms are quickly encircling her waist and lifting her off her feet.

She laughs as she tries to wriggle in his arms, her legs kicking out in the air as he laughs with her. He’s trying to make her drop the book and the smooth cover is slippery in her hands. He spins her around, ignoring her protests as they move faster and faster until the colours in front of their eyes are just blurs and his legs are like jelly, threatening to topple them both at any moment.

They stop suddenly as there’s a loud splash and his arms instantly slip from around her waist as she thuds back to her feet and they both throw themselves towards the fountain to look at the book now submerged in the water.

She tries to reach it but she’s too short and she has to lean against the edge of the fountain with her feet in the air just to get her arms in the water but she does anyway. She reaches forward, the ends of her chocolate brown hair dipping into the water.

Enjolras tries to steady her with a hand on her back as he watches silently.

She almost has it, she can feel the edge of the cover against her fingers, she just has to reach a little bit further- and just like the book she splashes into the water.

She splutters as quickly stands up, the water dripping from every part of her as she tries to shake some of the water from the her hair. She dips down, grabbing the book out of the water and holds it out to Enjolras but he no longer cares about the words on the pages as he helps her climb out and onto the grass.

They spend the next few hours laid out on the grass, trying to dry off Eponines hair and dress but the suns started to go in and it’s getting colder outside.

He helps her sneak back inside and they head straight to his room, where she always sleeps on his floor and he orders her to take off her dress whilst he turns around.

He searches through his wardrobe until he finds a plain top that might just fit her and he hands it to her with his eyes closed.

They almost get away with it, but just before they go to bed and whilst her dress is hung half out of the window and drying for morning, his Mother comes barging in holding the mushy pages of what was once his book.

She takes one look at her son, and then the slave and she instantly knows who is to blame.

Enjolras follows them down the corridor as his Mother drags his slave by the collar of the shirt that she wears and despite the girls protests, and her apologies for the book, his Mother doesn’t even hesitate as she marches her into the dining room.

She slams the door in her sons face and Enjolras presses his ear against the door as he tries to listen. He listens as his Mother shouts and Eponine tries again to apologise, but it falls on deaf ears and the shouting only gets louder and louder as his Mother continues.

For a while he begins to think that maybe that’s all she’ll do. She’ll just shout at Eponine and then send her back to his room but suddenly there’s a sound of skin against skin and he has the sickening realisation that one of them just hit the other.

The door on the other side of the dining room opens as his Mother heads into the kitchen and he quietly opens the door he is stood behind just enough so that he can peer inside.

His Mother returns with what he recognises is a cane and she orders Eponine to bend over the table. She does and his top rises up to the top of her thighs.

The cane stings against the girls skin and she tries to be quiet. She tries to swallow back the soft cries as the wood bites into her skin. She stuffs her fist into her mouth to try and keep the woman happy, but it doesn’t do much to help her.

She loses count at fifteen, and when she looks in the mirror the next day at the red lines that mark her skin, she counts twenty five of them on her pale skin.

She doesn’t talk to him that night, or the next day.

 

**IV.**

When he’s sixteen he they have their first argument.

He’s sat at his desk with his pen in his hand, he’s already wrote two pages and now he’s on his third whilst Eponine sits on the edge of his bed and watches him silently.

By the time he’s wrote the forth page she’s fidgeting with her hands, picking at his covers as she tries to pass the time. That’s the problem with Eponine, she never wants to sit still for longer than a few minutes. She’s like a bird trapped in a cage, wanting to be free and to stretch her wings.

He hears the gentle patter of her bare feet against the soft carpet, but he tries to ignore her as he continues to write.

As he sets aside the last page and begins on his sixth, he’s aware of the shadow that loams both over himself and the paper in front of him and he quietly scolds her and requests that she lets him work but that’s not enough for her.

He sighs as he sets down the pen and looks up at her. Her dark eyes stare back at him with just as much challenge as she crosses her arms against her chest and that’s when the argument begins.

She asks what he’s writing about, he tells her by simplifying the words that he knows she wont understand. She never had the education that he did and knows that her knowledge is limited.

She asks why he’s writing an essay about slaves and he lets out another sigh as he explains that it’s not an essay, it’s a speech and it’s for his friends that he’s met at school whilst she waits for him at home.

He’s sure he sees something like hurt flash through her eyes before she scowls at him. She asks if he’ll read it to her and he declines. It’s no where done and he doesn’t have long before he has to leave.

She asks him if she can come with him and again he declines. Her voice raises a few octaves as she talks, and he wonders for a moment if she’s going to cry, but she doesn’t. She keeps on talking, staring at him as she tells him that she’s not stupid and that she would understand what his speeches say if he gave her a chance.

And he wants to tell her that she’s right, he wishes he could tell her that but he knows if he does she’ll only argue with him further. She was the bud of inspiration that started all of this and now it’s spiralling out of his control. She is the reason he’s doing all of this and he’s so close to finally gaining what it is that they’re fighting for that he doesn’t have time for her to slow him down.

He explains instead that if his parents knew he was going out and why, they wouldn’t allow him to go. He has to sneak out and Eponine has to cover for him.

And she does even though she’s still hurt.

 

**V.**

When he’s seventeen, they share their first kiss.

They’re both older now and Eponine is growing more headstrong with every day. He tries his best to protect her, but it’s rare for her to go more than a few days without being punished but she says she doesn’t care, she says that she can look after herself and that they can’t control her and he knows that. He doesn’t need her to tell him.

She wants to explore and see more of the world, she wants to see what’s outside of these four walls and reluctantly he lets her.

He takes her with him as he mules around the streets, handing out flyers to those that want them. It took Jehan and Grantaire weeks to perfect them, and they represented his cause perfectly but the entire time he’s out there, he’s aware of the girl waiting in the shadows behind him.

Her eyes dart frantically around, falling on the shops that line the street opposite them and on the people that walk past, most of them barely even pausing to look at the blonde man that’s trying to catch their attention.

Everything is amazing and so much better than she could have ever expected and even though she doesn’t get to experience what it’s like inside of any of those shops, she’s buzzing from the experience of just going outside.

And as they walk home, following the alleys rather than the streets, Enjolras can’t help but smile as he listens to the girl babble about everything that she’s seen. She demands if he saw the cakes in the window of the bakery, and the colour of that one womans dress? Did he hear the busker down the road singing and did he see all of the birds?

They’re halfway home and he still can’t silence her. She still wants to ask him about everything and it’s nice for once to see a little bit of innocence in this broken world. He doesn’t understand what’s so different about Eponine from him. He doesn’t understand why she isn’t allowed to walk the same streets as him, or why she can’t enter any of those shops and he doesn’t even realise that he’s voiced these thoughts and promised to change all of this just for her until her lips are crashing against his, throwing him off balance as he stumbles.

It’s fast and messy, neither one of them have done this before but somehow his hands find her hips and he’s pulling her body up against him as her hands find his shoulders to steady herself. Their teeth clash against one another and their tongues are dancing together, battling for some kind of dominance in this messy embrace.

She tastes like honey and he likes it.

 

**VI.**

At eighteen he decides that it’s time to fly the nest.

He announces one morning over breakfast that he’s going to leave home and Eponine looks up in surprise from where she kneels at his feet. They both know it’s not going to be long until his parents find out what he’s been doing, and when they day comes neither are sure what will happen to them and he’s not going to take the risk.

He finds an apartment near to one of his friends in the centre of Paris. It’s only half an hour away but it’s far enough. He goes about packing his stuff in boxes and suitcases, ready to leave at any moment and he’s even packed a small bag for Eponine with a few items that he’s managed to get his hands on.

He’s going to change things for her, he’s going to give her a better life and he’s going to let her make all of her own choices. He tries to tell her that if she wants to be free then she can be. She tells him that she’s going to follow him to the end of the earth and he believes her.

It only takes a few days until they’re on their own in the empty apartment and Enjolras realises that maybe he wasn’t ready for this.

They don’t have any furniture, other than a bed each and the cupboards are nearly empty apart from a few bags of pasta. Enjolras can’t cook, and neither can Eponine but they make do.

On the first night as they both sit on the floor with a bowl of pasta in their laps, Enjolras presents her with the bag that has been sitting by the door unpacked.

She frowns as she looks at it, but she carefully unzips it anyway and she stares at the mash of material inside, tilting her head to the side as she carefully picks out a green lump. As she holds it up it unravels in her hands, falling back into shape.

Her eyes widen as she gapes at it and in moments she on her feet with the bowl of food forgotten. She darts past Enjolras and into the tiny bathroom, pulling the only item of clothing that she has ever owned off and dropping the grey dress on the floor forgotten.

It’s been half an hour and Enjolras is starting to worry. He’s about to go see if she’s alright when she finally emerges. The pale green dress is slightly big on her and she has to keep pushing the straps up to keep it slipping down but her smile lights up her face.

Enjolras thinks she’s never been more beautiful.

 

**VII.**

Its a few months before his nineteenth birthday when his parents finally find out.

He’s pulled away from the speech that he’s writing by the knock at the door. He listens for Eponines footsteps but when all he hears is silence, he warily he gets to his feet and heads out of his room. He notices then that she’s fallen asleep on the sofa and he pauses just long enough to drape a throw over her before he heads to the door.

He’s sure it’ll be one of his friends, even though it’s early and so he quickly opens the door and steps to the side to allow them access before he notices that it’s his Father that’s stood there and now staring at the slave girl asleep on the sofa.

Enjolras moves to block him access but it’s not enough and with a shove to his shoulder, Enjolras is stumbling backwards. He cracks his knee on the coffee table with a hiss and it’s enough to wake the girl. Her eyes widen as she jumps to her feet and in moments she’s stood behind Enjolras, staring back down at her feet.

All three of them dance around the room, Enjolras doing his best to block the girl from his Father whilst at the same time trying to avoid the blows that are being aimed at him. Finally, he gets Eponine into the bathroom and she reluctantly locks the door like he orders, leaving the two men alone in the room.

She can hear the shouting from where she cowers on the cold tiled floor and for the first time since arriving at Enjolras’ home, she remembers what her old home used to be like.

She remembers the shouting and she remembers the pain. She remembers the long nights and the even longer days and soon she can’t breathe. Her hands are covering her ears as she tries to rock herself, to give herself some comfort whilst the shouting continues outside.

The rooms too small for her and it feels like the walls are closing in. She’s always felt safe when she’s with Enjolras but today she doesn’t.

She isn’t sure how long she’s been in there but she’s suddenly aware of a gentle knocking on the door and Enjolras calling out to her. She manages to get to her feet but her entire body is trembling and she struggles to pull back the lock.

When she finally gets it, Enjolras slowly opens the door. There’s blood dripping down his chin and his nose is at a slightly odd angle and her eyes widen as she back away from him. This time she sees the hurt in his eyes.

His expression softens as he moves back to give her room and he’s holding his hand out towards her, offering it to her but she doesn’t move from the corner of the bathroom that she’s backed herself into. Behind him the apartment has been trashed but his Father is no longer there. She hopes that is a good thing but she’s not sure.

He waits patiently for her, understanding that she needs some space. He’s sitting on the floor away from the bathroom door but always watching her, soothing her with his words. It’s been almost an hour and she’s still shaking. She calls out for him to come back when he stands but he doesn’t. Instead he disappears out of sight and that just makes things worse.

But he isn’t gone for long. He returns a few minutes later and seats himself back on the floor as he sets his half-finished speech out on his lap. He gives her a small smile before he begins to read and she’s instantly hanging on his every word.

She doesn’t realise it, and neither does he but the more he talks, the more she inches forward until she’s out of the bathroom and soon she is sat right in front of him, cross legged on the floor as she stares at him in silence.

His voice has soothed her and her body is no longer shaking.

Eponine realises that she’ll always be safe with Enjolras.

 

**VIII.**

When he’s twenty he takes her to the Musain for the first time.

It’s busy and crowded, filled wall to wall with people. He finally managed to talk her into taking that damn collar off even though she complains it makes her feel naked but the promise of getting to go inside one of those buildings in return is too much of a temptation.

He leads her up the stairs and she hides behind him shyly as he slowly steps into the room. He’s worried that this will all be too much for her, that she won’t like his friends and in return they won’t like her.

She follows him like a lost puppy as he makes his way to the centre of the room and he has to stop, taking her hands gently in his as he squeezes them and leads her over to Jehan. He knows the gentle man will look after her. He isn’t as loud as the others and he knows poems that Eponine would probably like.

She sits stiffly on the chair, staring down at her lap as Enjolras leaves her and the poet gives him a reassuring smile before turning his full attention to his new friend.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac are both trying to talk to him but there’s a nagging in his mind that wants to make sure that Eponines okay. He’s already looked her way five times in the past half an hour and he can hear Grantaire making comments from the bar behind him.

He forces his eyes away from the map in front of him as he looks towards where he left Eponine but she’s not there. There’s a wave of panic building inside of him as he frantically looks around the room and realises that maybe she left.

He told her all along that she could leave if she wanted to and start a new life, but he never expected that she would… And now her seat is empty and she doesn’t know this place. If she gets caught around here and they realise she’s a slave, she’ll be sent to the market or simply put down.

His heart is pounding in his chest, he’s about to run straight down the stairs and out onto the street to look for her when he sees a flash of green and eyes finally fall on her.

A small smile graces his lips as he realises she’s sat next to Bahorel and Feuilly. Both men have rolled up their sleeves and she’s gazing in amazement at the art that decorates their skin. They’re both gentle with her, like she’s the most delicate thing in the room and he can see from where he stands that they’ll look after her.

Finally he can concentrate.

 

**IX.**

Enjolras is still twenty one when he announces it’s time for change. It’s time for a revolution.

That night as he speaks in the Musain, his eyes catch those of Eponines as she sits at one of the table with his friends on either side of her, protecting her from anything that might try to harm her.

He doesn’t need to voice it, but she knows that he’s doing this for her. He’s doing this for that shy little girl that turned up on his doorstep at the age of nine. He’s doing this for the girl that got punished for trying to save his book at the age of eleven. For the fifteen year old that argued that she wasn’t stupid despite her lack of education and the innocence of that girl at the age of sixteen.

He doesn’t need to fight for that girl after the age of seventeen because by that point she had learned to stand up for herself. She had learned by seventeen how dark this world could be and at eighteen she took the leap with him and moved into the even more corrupt city but he realises that when she was only nineteen that she was still a scared little girl beneath all of those layers, just like all of these men were scared little boys trying to fight a war beneath their own.

That night when they finally reach their home and when she’s had her first drink of wine and he’s had a bit too much himself, instead of holding the door open for her like he always does, he scoops the waif of a girl up into his arms and carries her inside. She doesn’t say anything, but her lips find his neck and she places a gentle kiss there as she breathes his name and that’s all he needs.

He places her on his bed rather than her own and his fingers quickly work on his shirt, pulling it over his head and drops it onto the floor as she watches in awe. He checks she wants this, and smiles as she nods.

His trousers join the shirt, along with his socks and soon her dress is there as well.

He’s on top her, their breathe mingling together as their lips crash against one another over and over again. Her nails scratch against his skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake and he can’t help the moan that escapes his lips, and neither can she.

He’s ready and hard, pressed against her thigh and at first it scares her but then there’s something exciting and new about all of this and the very thought sends butterflies soaring in her stomach as she reaches down and attentively touches him and explores him.

They’re pressed together, the sheets tangled around their legs as he supports himself, trying not to crush her under his weight. He tries to be gentle as he thrusts but there’s some primal need inside of himself that he’s never felt before, telling him to move faster and harder but he doesn’t.

His touches are careful and his words gentle against her ear. His lips are caressing hers as she arches her back and soon they’re both crashing over the edge of the world as they cry out.

He carefully rolls off of her carefully and her arm is around his waist whilst her head finds his shoulder and he presses one more kiss against his forehead before they both fall asleep.

Enjolras has never felt this way towards anyone before and it scares him.

 

**X.**

A lot happens when Enjolras is twenty one but he thinks the barricades might be the most important.

The next morning he wakes early and he retrieves his clothes from the floor as he tiptoes around the apartment. He tries to eat breakfast but his stomach his churning. His entire life has been building towards this moment and this will all be over by the time Eponine wakes.

He sits at his desk as he watches her, waiting as the final hour slowly ticks away. He knows deep down that he might not see her again. That if things go badly he won’t be coming home and he worries what will happen to her without him. He knows his friends would look after her, but they don’t know her like he does…

He chases away those thoughts as he stands. He can’t think like that anymore. He has to be positive, he knows he’s going to win this.

He presses a kiss against her forehead and for the first time, he tells her he loves her with his entire heart and he means it.

He turns to leave, a heaviness weighing down his heart as he reaches the bedroom door but her voice is calling after him and he stops. He closes his eyes tightly, he knows he should just walk out of there but he can’t.

He turns to face her, looking at her draped in the sheet as she sits up and she asks where he’s going. He tells her that he has to go to the barricades and that’ll be back when it’s over but she’s climbing out the bed anyway, not bothering about her dignity as she stares at him stubbornly.

She tells him that she’s coming and he tells her that she’s not.

She grabs the dress of the floor whilst he tries to take it out of her hands.

He thinks about locking her in, but she reminds him that she can climb out the window.

Finally, they’re at a standoff in the living room with both of them refusing to step down.

She tells him that she loves him and it breaks his heart. He should never have done this to her.

Their lips are meeting again and he’s kissing her desperately, like his life depends on it and she’s returning the kiss with just as much need. The honey taste doesn’t last long, soon replaced by a salty taste and he realises that she’s crying.

His arms wrap around her tightly, pressing her into his chest and he wishes things were different. He wishes this didn’t have to happen but that’s not an option. It’s no longer just her that he’s fighting for, but every other slave out there.

He promises her over and over that he’ll come back for her but she’s begging him not to leave anyway. His heart is already broken into a thousand pieces but now her words are trampling those into a thousand more.

He’s running late now, but that doesn’t matter. Finally she promises to stay safe, and in return he promises to come back to her.

He kisses her again before scooping her up and carrying her back to bed. He tells her to sleep and that he’ll be there as soon as she wakes and she sighs as she closes her eyes.

With one last kiss, he leaves.

 

**XI.**

Eponine is twenty when she realises that she would do anything for him.

She tries to sit at home and wait for him to return. She tries her best not to listen to the shouts out on the streets or the gunshots that are ringing in the air but she can’t.

She’s constantly fidgeting and her hands won’t stay still. She tried to sleep but she couldn’t. She’s paced the entire apartment more times than she can count and the small bit of food she tried to eat she couldn’t keep down.

She’s never been outside on her own but she decides it can’t be that hard.

She raids Enjolras’ wardrobe, pulling out a pair of trousers and a shirt that look like they wouldn’t be too big on her. She tucks her hair up under a plain brown hat before she sets out onto the street, deciding no one will notice that she’s a slave if she’s dressed like she isn’t.

She wanders aimlessly for a while, trying to stay away from the fighting but it draws her in like a moth to a flame and she tells herself that she’s just going to watch from the shadows so she knows that Enjolras is okay.

And she does, for a while at least. She can keep track of him simply by the back of his head. He’s mostly stood on top of the barricade with a gun in his hand but occasionally he retreats and so does she. She knows if he sees her here he’ll send her home.

Eventually she gets brave when she realises that he hasn’t come down for a while and maybe he won’t. She manages to get to the bottom of the barricade without anyone noticing who she is and she finds a small gap that she can peer between.

On the other side there are hundreds of men, and she realises that this isn’t good but none of the men on this side are backing down.

She manages to move higher and if Enjolras was to turn around now, he would realise instantly who she was but that doesn’t stop her as she keeps moving.

She’s just behind him now, off to his left and a little bit behind when she’s the man coming towards them.

Enjolras is too busy shouting down to the leader of the men on the other side to notice the man that’s crept up on him and he’s got the gun pointing straight at him.

Before either man can react she throws herself forward, her body presses up against Enjolras’ who looks down in surprise. The gunshot rings through the air before anyone can react.

It’s a hot searing pain that pierces her shoulder, knocking the breath straight out of her lungs with it.

At first she thinks she’s floating but Enjolras’ voice pulls her back to reality and realises that he’s carrying her away from the fighting and inside the battered remains of the Musain.

Joly is beside her instantly and despite both of them talking, she can’t make out what they’re saying over the ringing of her ears.

She tired, so very tired and she wants to sleep but Enjolras won’t let her. Every time she closes her eyes his hands shake her body violently and she has no choice but to look up at her.

There’s fingers prodding at her, and sharper things… Scalpels and knives, needles and threads…

A scream escapes her lips as she tries to push away the hands that are tormenting her, but soon Enjolras’ hands are on her own and his lips are pressing against the cold skin there.

She tries to listen to his voice now the ringing has gone but it’s as if he’s stood at the other side of the room. She looks up at him from beneath her drooped eyelids whilst he looks back through his tears.

She tries to fight, but her eyes won’t stay open any longer.

 

**XII.**

At the age of twenty one, Enjolras finds his world crashing around him.

He’s called away from the Musain by Combeferre and he knows it must be urgent because his friend wouldn’t do this unless it was. He leaves Eponine alone with Joly but he’s certain that she’s already gone.

The moment he steps outside, he realises why he’s been called for. The barricade is crumbling around them and the men on the other side are making their way through.

There is no hope for them now.

He numbly takes the gun he left outside and with his friends, he advances. They fight with everything they’ve got. They fight for those that can not fight for themselves in the hope that they might lay down the path for someone else to follow in the future.

He watches as his friends begin to fall but he’s too numb to mourn for them. He was foolish to believe this would ever work. He led these men to their deaths and now he was going to hell for it.

He doesn’t notice that someone has slashed his arm with a knife until the sticky blood is coating not only his fingers but his gun.

He’s cornered now and about to give up hope. Around him he can make out the lifeless bodies of his friends and there’s a lump in his throat which he just can’t shift.

He closes his eyes and lets his gun clatter to the floor as he surrenders himself to their bullets. He hopes Eponine is waiting for him.

He waits for the pain.

Nothing comes.

After a few moments, he slowly opens his eyes but he soon realises that the mens attention has been drawn elsewhere.

Slowly, he looks with them and he sees what they see. He’s not alone. The people have risen.

The fighting begins once more. The soldiers guns are nearly empty and with a new onslaught of fighters, they don’t stand a chance.

Enjolras picks up his guns and fights once more.

He fights for his friends.

He fights for those that don’t have a voice.

He fights for Eponine.

 

**XIII.**

At the age of twenty two, two days after his birthday and one week after the fight, Enjolras watches as one by one, the people that became his family are laid to rest.

He stands alone as he watches. They get graves in the graveyard, dug out for them side by side. No one else attends. They’re offered a state funeral, but that’s not what he wants. He wants a quiet affair, without the frills.

Once it’s done he says a few quiet words. He apologises for taking their lives but goes on to tell them about their success. They succeeded and every day more and more slaves are being freed. Centres have been set up as safe places for them, to help them to adapt to the world around them.

They’re free to go where they want and although there is still a prejudice towards them, things are looking up.

He stays for another hour before finally leaving them and heading back to his quiet apartment.

His friends didn’t die in vain.

 

**XIV.**

At the age of twenty, Eponine didn’t expect to die.

The endless darkness seemed to go on forever, along with the silence. It was uncomfortable and sickening. It pulled at her very core and sucked her in whilst she tried to fight it. She tried to go back, she tried to find her way back home but wherever she turned it was just darkness.

Nothing more, nothing less.

It was frightening to think that she would be stuck in this endless void for eternity. The bullshit that she had been fed about heaven and hell turned out not to be real and that made everything much worse. The darkness was making her bitter but that didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered now.

She’d rather have been thrown into the deepest pit of hell to rot in than to be stuck here.

She was so alone here. It was lonely and cold and she wanted to go home.

And she did.

 

**XV.**

At the age of twenty, Eponine woke to a blinding light that slowly began to fade.

At the age of twenty, Eponine found herself staring at the face of angel, maybe even God himself with his golden curls and eyes the shade of sky.

No, at the age of twenty, Eponine found her way home.

 


End file.
